The Lord of the Rims...

One day last week, we woke up to a flat tire in our driveway. My first thought was, “Great. What are we going to do?” My second thought was, “Call Susanna.” I wouldn’t be surprised if that child changed her phone number on us! But, she was as gracious as always and said she would be right over and we could go get it fixed. I asked her if we needed to go buy a new tire, dreading yet another unexpected expense, and she said that we could probably just get it patched and it would be fine. So Jim got a lesson on finding all the necessary equipment Toyota hides in its 4-Runners for tire changing. Once he had the bald spare put on, we set out to go to the tire repair place.

On the way, Susanna told us that it was a very reputable place and had always done a good job of patching her tires for her. Living in Managua and traveling all the places she does, necessitates a new set of tires every year and frequent patch jobs. I guess having driven our car for a couple of weeks that it was time for us to have a flat. We were just thankful it occurred while parked in front of our house instead of on one of the really busy thoroughfares we travel every day.

We pulled in to the tire repair shop and I have to admit, I was a little hesitant. This sure didn’t look anything like the tire center at Wal-Mart. There were three young men there who were working hard on repairing the tire of an impatient taxi driver. He wouldn’t have shared my thought that it was a good thing he was sidelined as that meant there was one less maniacal driver on the streets of Managua. His thought, I’m sure, was that each minute that passed, as he was sitting in his now 3-tire, obviously well-abused taxi, was a minute that he might be missing out on his next fare…which meant less cordobas in his pocket at the end of the day…always equating to less food on the table.

Thanks, once again, to Susanna’s translating, when the young men were through with the taxi driver – who roared off like a Nascar racer spying the finish line, they got the tire out of the back of the car to take it to their “shop”. One of the young men noticed how badly our spare looked and felt that it was necessary to take it off and check it as well. We told him it was fine but his professional eye outranked our protest. He came over to our car and proceeded to jack it up with their hand jack…while the three of us were in it! We asked Susanna if we shouldn’t get out and she told us we were fine staying in the car and that we needed to stay in the shade.

Thus began the process of getting the tire fixed: first of all, after getting the tire out of our car, they aired it up, put it in a tub of water to find the leak (actually two of them) which they marked with a yellow crayon-type marker; then The Three Amigos had to hang on the end of the “tire-popper” thing to break the bead to get the tire off the rim; next, they used an old flat hand iron to seal the patch on the holes – it actually reminded me of my Grandma’s old iron; they put the tire back on the rim, aired it up and gave it another dip in the tub of water (I have to confess here that I thought they were just cleaning our tire and I commented on what good service that was…Jim and Susanna laughingly corrected my Pollyanna view of tire repair) and miraculously, the patches held. Our spare didn’t fare as well. When they checked it, they also found a hole in it. As they were taking it off the rim, it began to tear and literally fell apart. We were definitely going to be buying a tire that day.

About 45 minutes after pulling in, it came time to pay our bill…remember, they patched one tire with two patches, took one tire off the car and tried to patch it (plus thoughtfully washed the two tires…) and the whole bill came to 150 cords…or about $7.90. They did offer to sell us a used tire for about $85 but Susanna thought we would be better off going to Price Smart…like a Sam’s Club…and getting a new tire, not knowing where the used tire might have come from. They assured us it was a good tire as the letters were painted white…we graciously declined. So, we joined the ranks of the maniacal taxi drivers and headed off to Price Smart…after thanking the young men for their work and their willingness to let the gringos take pictures…like we had never seen a tire repair place before!

Price Smart wanted $120 for a new tire. Susanna remembered another place we could go check so we headed off to the south end of Managua. The quest for a more reasonably priced tire was going to lead us right in to a spiritual battle.

We found the tire place and it looked very professional with much more modern equipment. The owner had two tires in stock that would work for us and after some dickering on Susanna’s part, we agreed on a price. He offered us seats at his desk while we were waiting to have the tire mounted and balanced…it didn’t need to be washed as it was a new tire. :0) He then proceeded to ask a jillion questions both to Susanna and us…once again with her translating.

Things seemed to be going fine until he asked why Jim and I were here in Managua. When we told him God brought us, that’s when it all started. He began telling Susanna that he was a spiritual man himself and that he had achieved a higher level of spirituality through his studies. He had basically created his own religion which is a mixture of Catholicism, new age and elitism…and he was pastoring a church. Jim and I both realized early on that he was not on target with his beliefs and as he would challenge Susanna repeatedly, we sat and prayed quietly, asking God to give Susanna wisdom, boldness and protection and that she would stand firm in the face of this man’s attack…he was becoming louder and louder and although Susanna wouldn’t argue with him, she would not back down from God’s Truth. This almost made the man angry but Susanna would just smile and quietly respond when given the opportunity.

The man became so engrossed in his tirade that he totally neglected the other customers who were coming in. We continued to pray, realizing that he wasn’t just misguided, he was speaking against Jesus. What was so alarming to me is that every time Susanna had the opportunity to share scripture or something God’s Word said, her voice would almost be drowned out by the loud noises coming from the equipment the workers were using…it was actually quite disturbing but it made me realize even more that this wasn’t a difference of opinion, this was the enemy at work.

When our tire work was done and we were able to leave, the man accompanied us out to our car and told us we were welcome to come do business there any time. We thanked him and left. Susanna was exhausted and very apologetic that she had recommended that place. We all felt a little shaky and Susanna feared her words fell on deaf ears. In trying to comfort and encourage her, we reminded her that God’s Word does not return void and that we may never know how God would use that encounter with that man.

Now what I want to say about all this is just the day before, Susanna, Jim and I had a conversation about evangelizing. We were telling her about our Good News program at church. She said that she is uncomfortable doing that and that she prefers to let the way she lives her life be her spoken word. We told her we understood but that we knew we had to be bold about our faith, even when we might feel uncomfortable in doing so. She agreed and the conversation ended.

God’s timing is perfect. We didn’t just happen in to that tire place…God led us there through the circumstances which had occurred earlier in the day. He knew Susanna needed to know she could defend her faith when put in a position where she would feel it was necessary and that she could do it well. He knew we needed to know by personal experience that there are all kinds of antichrists and that we need to be diligent, fervent and constant in our prayers for wisdom and protection from the evil one…both for ourselves and those we love. And we all needed to be reminded that God is in control of all things… including the harvesting of souls, the return of His Word and the timing of flat tires.

It's Nicaragua!

Jim and I had decided several weeks ago, right after we had unknowingly “donated” our propane tank to an uninvited visitor, we needed to make our home as secure as we possibly could, more so for our own piece of mind than anything else. For the most part, the interior of the house is very secure with metal bars on every window and exterior door. The exception is our laundry room area which once was open to the elements but at some point, had been enclosed…loosely defined as such. There are only several pieces of poorly secured and badly gapping fiberglass which serve as our roof. The door between the kitchen and the laundry area is a hollow core door and is latched with a small slide latch. These measures are not enough to qualify as secure by any stretch of the imagination.

You might think we’re being a bit paranoid with just experiencing only a propane tank being taken and perhaps we are. But in the month we have lived here, we have discovered we are of great interest to the surrounding community…even to the point we have people go through our trash 3x a week – it’s Nicaragua… probably just to see what we wasteful gringos have thrown away that might be salvaged…but that also is very telling as to what we may have recently purchased. We are learning it is best not to advertise to the community at large that we are bringing in to our home new items…even though because we are setting up housekeeping and starting from ground zero, everything is new.

As a result of this decision to insure our security at a higher level, we initially spoke with Don Carlos, our landlord, and asked his permission to install iron bars across the roof area of the laundry room. He understood our concern at the area of vulnerability and gave his blessing for us to go ahead…at our own expense, of course! He said we were free to do anything we wanted to do to improve the house…well, yeah!

We then contacted Luis (through Susanna), a Christian Nicaraguan who helped us secure our night guard and last week, he brought in a man from Jinotepe, about an hour away, who custom makes the security iron gridwork for doors, windows, etc. Apparently, it seems to be both typical and wise to contract with workmen outside your local area as an added measure of protection. The trust factor seems to be pretty low when it comes to that kind of thing. He gave us the estimate for the work which was about 3x higher than we expected (due to the rapidly rising cost of all building materials)…after we recovered from the shock of the expense, we discussed it with Susanna and with Luis, and both of them felt like even though it was a hefty sum and an unplanned expense, it would be a wise decision. Theft is very common…to the point no one thinks much about it except for the one whose items are lifted.

Susanna and Luis thought perhaps Don Carlos would be willing to share the expense with us since it’s something that we obviously can’t take with us when we move but after Jim and I discussed it, we opted to not even approach him on it. After all, he had already agreed to come down $150 per month on our rent and we knew how the laundry room looked when we rented the place. We just didn’t feel right about going to him and asking him for this. So, we gave the man the money to purchase the iron and he told us he would be here first thing Monday morning…yesterday.

About mid-morning on Monday, we got a call from Susanna. It seemed that the man couldn’t come and install the bars as it had rained all last week and the paint wouldn’t dry. He rescheduled for Tuesday morning…this morning. That would have been fine but we finally got an appointment set up with our tutor for noon on Tuesday (he also operates on his own time frame – after all, it is Nicaragua), and so, we had to call him to reschedule our language lesson. He was supposed to call us right back…hasn’t yet happened. Why? Because, it’s Nicaragua.

Well, Susanna called about 8:00 a.m. Seems the workman called and the bus he was taking broke down in Diriambe, a town just outside of Jinotepe. He and his workers were waiting for another bus to come and pick them up. I wondered why on earth they were taking a bus when they were supposed to be bringing the iron work with them…oh, well. It’s Nicaragua. My second thought was we had given this man $400 cash, had no idea where he lived and I was beginning to wonder if we would ever see him actually materialize. Oh, Lynne of little faith.

An hour has passed and as I’m sitting here typing this, Susanna has called again. The workman had called her cell phone and is now waiting outside our gate to be let in! He has arrived! He has two helpers with him and two huge pieces of the iron work ready to be installed plus an arc welder. I can only imagine how they hefted those pieces up on top of the buses! Of course, no one speaks English…and our Spanish hasn’t improved a great deal in the last few weeks so we’re playing charades again. Thank goodness, Margarita is here and of all things, she’s interpreting…mind you, she can’t speak English either but somehow, it’s easier to understand her than it is these three men…or perhaps it’s that she doesn’t show her frustration as openly as these three men! Whatever, I’m thankful she’s here.

They have hooked their wiring directly in to the wiring of the house (It’s Nicaragua) and when they turned on their drill to begin drilling in to the concrete wall, my surge suppressor went crazy on the computer and so Jim and I quickly unplugged everything in the entire house including the refrigerator. Battery back-up is a blessing.

Okay…the job is done, the workmen paid and the pictures taken…much to the delight of the guys who put the metal all together. We gave the boss a little extra for the work and you would have thought he hit the jackpot. He kept thanking us and grinning ear to ear. They installed flashing on the roof to help defray the water that comes in when it rains…hopefully it will work so I can actually hang clothes up on the inside line without having to strategically place them on the line when it’s raining out. If it works, I’ll even forgive them for accidentally burning a part of my clothesline rope…thankfully, there was plenty to spare so Jim was able to re-tie it. I am so glad to get the bars in that I have also managed to not be quite so upset about the concrete patching and painting we now have to do in order to repair the damage they did to the wall while wrestling those big pieces of iron grating up to the roof area. After all, it’s Nicaragua!

On the Road to Rio (Blanco)...

Forgive the awkward display of pictures...I'm still learning how to do this...also, forgive me for such a wordy blog this time...I'm still learning how to do this! Truth be told, I'll probably never figure out how to do the picture thing the way I want it to look and I'll probably never learn to be brief and concise. That being said, I have to tell you about our up-close and personal experience with the transportation strike which, by the way, was declared as over on Monday…we’ll see how long these concessions last. The buses and taxis were given a price reduction for fuel – the large transports and private vehicles were not. As of yesterday, diesel, which is the cheapest of the fuels, was selling for $5.10 per gallon…the highest fuel prices in all of Latin America. I wonder what the prices would be if Hugo Chavez wasn’t such a good “friend” to Nicaragua…

I want to preface this account by saying I have never particularly been a union supporter. I won't go in to detail as to why I have always taken a dim view of unions, but suffice to say, I have. I'm not declaring my beliefs on this subject to rile anyone up who happens to take the opposite viewpoint. I just want to clarify what my stance had always been prior to the transportation strike here in Nicaragua. But God changes hearts...even those of us who thought He had already done His heart work.

Our second Saturday here, we took Susanna's car (with Jim driving) and went up north to Rio Blanco to work on arrangements for a team that will be coming in June. Sergio Torres, a young man who is pastoring a church plant in Rio Blanco, went with us. He usually goes up every Friday by bus (a 6 1/2 hour trip each way) and returns to Managua on Monday. Since we were making the trip on Saturday, he waited a day to take advantage of a shorter ride up (4 1/2 hrs. on non-strike days!) and it would be a free trip, at that.

Not too far out of Managua, we came across an area where there were numerous semis parked along the roadside with the drivers all sitting in their cabs. No one was out milling about...it was eerie. We read later in the newspaper, (okay, actually, we just looked at the pictures…) that the next day there were two of those semis set on fire as the strikers clashed with the strike-breakers.

We kept driving north and finally hit a barricade set up by the strikers. There were many buses and taxis parked alongside and across the road to keep traffic from going through. This particular road that we were driving is the main highway to the northeast area of the country so it is well-traveled, although I have to say, not at all well-maintained! They kept us there for about 15 minutes before letting us through and on we went.

The next roadblock they just waved us through after a couple of minutes when they saw we were gringos in a private car. Of course, they didn’t bother to move the tires out of the road so Jim had to straddle them and weave in and out of the big rocks placed as added obstructions but two of the strikers did raise the steel cable for us to pass under. Being given preferential treatment because of the color of our skin is as uncomfortable as is being taken advantage of for the same reason.

It didn’t get really interesting until we came to the next roadblock. This one had quite an accumulation of traffic stopped. There were strike breakers, private cars, individuals transporting their goods to sell (livestock, eggs, grain, etc.) plus the “pirates”. The last category are privately owned trucks which pack people in to them in unbelievable quantities and charge them an exhorbitant amount to take them from place to place.

Of course, with such a gathering of people in one place for what we were told could be up to a 3 hour wait, the vendors with their little carts came out in full force, selling tamales, shaved ice, bags of water, tortillas, beer, etc. Music was playing through loud speakers (Latinos seems to love their music as loud as they can get it) and a flat bed trailer had been set up as a stage at the barricade. The police, who were supposed to be there to maintain order (although only one had a gun), simply found a shady place under a tree, and watched the proceedings…one was stretched out, snoozing peacefully in spite of the noisy carnival atmosphere.

After watching for a few minutes and determining it was more of a celebratory gathering than an angry one, Susanna and Sergio got out of the car and walked to the front to find out how long it would be up before we could pass. I had my camera out taking pictures and Susanna decided to take her video camera along with her. Jim and I stayed in the car…I want to tell you it was to protect our belongings, which in part was true, but more so, honestly, it was because it was air conditioned and it was going to take more than an interesting assemblage of characters to get me to give up the A.C. at that point.

The leaders of the strike saw gringos with cameras and asked Susanna what we were going to do with the pictures we were taking. She told them we were going to send them back to people in the States who weren’t hearing about the strike. She asked them if anyone wanted to say anything about the strike and she would put them on video. They loved that! They passionately told their stories of rapidly escalating prices, especially fuel and food, and no rise in wages. Their families are facing terrible hardships due to the inflation. The public transporters didn’t feel they could raise their prices any higher as the public couldn’t afford any more hikes and they came to the conclusion that they couldn’t afford to operate anymore until something was done to bring relief – they were looking for subsidized fuel pricing more than anything and they believed the government not only could help them but should. They said they were prepared to stay there for a month without moving.

When questioned about what would happen to their families if they went on strike for a month, one of the men said that all the money he was earning was going back in to buying fuel and that his children were already hungry…he didn’t feel he had any other option but to join in a nationwide strike. Even though he knew it would create a hardship for some, he was hoping it would ultimately bring relief for all. It’s hard to argue with logic based on empty bellies.

When Susanna and Sergio finished their conversation with the strikers, they came walking back to the car – about 30 minutes later – and told us all that had been said. Evidently, the strikers were so thrilled that someone would come to “report” on their plight to America, they were going to let us go on through and were going to radio ahead to the next blockade so they could talk to the video camera and get their pictures taken by the American “reporters”. Susanna said she was going to put her video on her Facebook page so that it would be available to her friends and family back home. Whatever was said, the strikers must have believed we were somehow connected to the press because we basically sailed through all the remaining roadblocks. All totaled, we encountered six during the trip and at each one, I tried to look very professional, holding my little Pentax first one way and then another. I snapped pictures fast and furious and prayed the entire time that we would make it through without any repercussions from the authorities, the vendors or the crowds. It was a situation that could easily have turned ugly without much provocation.

We were told that there would be a total shutdown on all the major highways the following Monday so we needed to make sure we were back home in plenty of time. Sergio decided to return to Managua with us that same day since it didn’t look as if he would be able to get a bus home if he waited to go home on Monday. He was going to have his brother preach for him.

We spent a couple of hours working on project planning and then decided to head back so we would be in Managua about dark…that was the plan anyway. It seems our VIP status had expired sometime between the trip up and the trip home. Since all the pictures had already been taken and all the speeches already given, the strikers really had no incentive to let the carload of gringos pass through the barriers and so we found ourselves sitting at each blockade…from 30 minutes to an hour. Even the cute little blonde (Susanna) didn’t buy us any leeway with those guys! Although they gladly took the candy and soda we handed out to the leaders at each post.

What had earlier been reminiscent of a neighborhood block party, was quickly turning in to a camping-out beer party. For guys who couldn’t feed their families, they somehow seemed to find the money to buy their beer from the very happy street vendors…or I’m assuming they had to pay for it. The majority of the public were very supportive of the strikers and their position so maybe there were generous, union-minded, independently wealthy beer vendors who were gladly opting to hand out the Tonas without any compensation. I doubt it.

We finally made it home after 9:00 p.m. that night...it was a long day but one filled with such interesting sights and experiences. I felt we had the special privilege of hearing first hand the hearts and minds of the frustrated strikers. For the most part, they were just hard-working folks with families to feed, who felt backed into a corner. These weren't people who were upset because the rate of inflation prevented them from buying a new boat or were being forced to vacation closer to home this year. these were people who were at their wits end as to how to continue to work and still try to feed their families when they were already being stretched to the breaking point. I understood the country (minus the government) as a whole, being sypathethic to the strikers.

God was so good to us though throughout the entire day. He got us to Rio Blanco and back without incidence. He protected us from the giant axle-eating potholes, He gave us 6 hours and five minute bladders for a six hour trip, He inclined the strikers to look favorably upon us on the way up and kept the inebriated crowds from taking their lack-of-finances frustrations out on us on the way back. And once again, He helped us see life with a different perspective. The road to Rio won't ever look quite the same to me again.

An insatiable hunger...

The picture you see above this is not about any of the children you'll read about in the blog. This picture was actually taken the Saturday we went to Rio Blanco. You know, there isn't a section of this city that is poor, or an area of this country that is poor. Poverty shows no favoritism. The shack you see is someone's home. It's not an unusual site...it's more the norm than not.

This will be a fairly short blog...it's not that this news isn't as important as the others, it's that it's getting late and I don't want to put it off for another day. I want to tell you about our time at a local government sanctioned re-nutrition center and safe house for children that's located about a block away from our house. Susanna had been there once before and called us to tell us that she was going again and wanted to know if we would like to meet her there. We jumped at the opportunity!

We gobbled down a sandwich and headed off to the center. It's in a fairly non-descript location with nothing to draw attention to itself. We parked around back and walked in to what I quickly ascertained as controlled chaos. The ladies who were working there seemed to be pretty much immune to what I perceived as the simultaneous crying and fussing of 43 children, ages from a few months old up to about 7 years of age.

We were immediately put to work feeding the littlest ones who were lined up on the floor in little infant bouncy chairs. The children were eating a thickened base of what looked like creamed veggies mixed with some sort of cereal and baby food. It smelled and looked like something I was sure Jim wouldn't eat and he's not that picky of an eater!

I was feeding a small child named Griselda who was probably between 18 months and 2 years of age although she wasn't much bigger than Jeremiah, our 5 month old grandson. She dutifully and systematically ate her dish full of food, never refusing a bit nor fussing to have more. She simply would open her mouth each time I touched the spoon to her lips. She watched me intently, never smiling or showing any emotion. It broke my heart.

This little girl was obviously in need of nutrition but more than that, she was in need of a loving touch. When she was through eating, I picked her up and held her for awhile, all the time talking softly in her ear. There was never a change in her expression. I finally went to put her back in her crib and when I laid her down, she opened her mouth and out came the most pitifully weak little mewing sound. She was crying yet there wasn't any oomph at all to it...and there were very few tears. It was obviously just another hollow protest for who knows what which that little girl had endured. This laying down in the crib was a sense of abandoning to her...she knew it and so did I.

So, what did I do? The same thing any one of you would have done. Yes, there were others who were crying, who wanted to be held, who craved the touch of someone who wanted to show comfort, out of a sense of love, not out of a sense of duty. But this little girl was my "first" at this place and she laid claim to that position so I picked her back up and held her close. She never relaxed or snuggled close...I wish I could tell you she did. She remained rigid and expressionless but she obviously was as "content" as a malnourished, neglected little girl could be under such circumstances.

Jim had his own little charmer with whom he was dealing. She had a curly mop of hair and was just fascinated with Jim's beard...as were most of the other little ones there. She wasn't at all interested in eating but more inclined to want to grab anything that was within reach. She had the most expressive brown eyes and was such a little doll.

Then there was the little guy who never stopped moving while in his playpen. He would grab hold of the sides and swing himself much like a monkey does going from branch to branch. He was constantly in motion and if you got close enough to him, he would try to grab your watch, check out your pockets, pull on your ring...his hands were always working. We laughed and said he was a pick pocket in training...we pray we weren't prophesying over the little cutie. He was an interesting and entertaining one. I noticed that he had an extra "thumb" on his right hand but it didn't seem to slow him down one bit.

Many of the children there seemed to have some sort of physical or mental handicap but that's not surprising. There's a vicious cycle for the weak, the malformed and the handicapped. They ususally don't seem to be as well taken care of as the stronger children are. As a result, they often suffer from malnutrition and its effects far more than a more "perfect" child might. Which in turn, doesn't help them to develop stronger bodies and brighter minds. Poverty is a thief and its victims are most often the poorest and the weakest.

The room we were in had 12 babies, whose cribs were literally lined up touching each other and there were only two women to feed, bathe, change and dress all of them. There obviously wasn't time to interact or play with them. They only had time to take care of the "necessities". Loving on those kids would certainly count as a necessity in my mind.

The two ladies working there seemed very appreciative for the help and I don't think it's a stretch for us to say that if we can get permission and clearance to return, we'll definitely be there. The toddler area was packed with children and toys all over the floor...the adults don't play with them, they just let them play "alone". Another way we could serve...get in there and play with those kids, interacting with them, working their minds and their intellect and talking to them about Jesus...plus, Jim was eyeing the legos and I saw a whole slew of baby dolls. We could work up a little imagination time if given a chance!

This is definitely a place we can offer a helping hand. Sorry I don't have pictures of this place or the kids...we weren't allowed to take any while we were there. One more thought before I go. This is just a drop in the bucket of all the children in this country who are fighting malnutrition, neglect, abuse or abandonment. Don't feel sorry for these 43 children - they have found refuge. Instead, pray for the hundreds of thousands of children who won't even have the opportunity to have gruel spooned in to their mouths...not tonight, not tomorrow.

Well, that's it for now. We'll meet again soon!

Love and blessings,

Lynne

Only a matter of time...

There's always so much to tell...life here is so new and interesting that I want to share it all! I really am trying to be selective about what I opt to "publish" re: all that we are experiencing. I do have a "Boy,-is-my-face-red" story for you. Remember I told you our guard's name was Roberto? It's not. It's Osvaldo (like Oswald...the "v" has a "b" sound). Now I'm sure you're wondering how on earth I could have confused the names Roberto and Osvaldo...I have to tell you, I don't have a clue! It seems Robbie (an American missionary - called Roberto by the Nicaraguans) was his previous employer and I guess when Luis, the man who retained Osvaldo for us, and Susanna were visiting, somehow we got the idea that our guard's name was Roberto.

So, for the first 3 nights, we called him Roberto and he responded just like that was his name. We were talking about him with Susanna a few days ago and she got the funniest look on her face when we said his name and then asked us, "Why do you keep calling him Roberto?" Naturally, that led to the talk that enlightened us as to what his name actually was. It made for a good laugh but we were left with the dilemma of trying to communicate our mistake to a young man who doesn't speak much English.

We hoped that when he arrived for work, we would be able to adequately convey our well-rehearsed but badly mangled Spanish apology. Either out of compassion or the desire to curb the assault on his native language, Osvaldo stopped us midway and said his name was not Roberto but he did not want to make us feel bad so he didn't say anything. Thankfully, we all got past the awkward moment and later on, he tried to come up with the Spanish equivalent to our names...Jim's is Santiago (but he calls him Roberto on occasion!) and mine is Helene (with the H being silent...as in Helen(e) of Troy)...and so the confusion carries on!

Two days ago, we decided to go shopping for plants so we invited Susanna to go along to serve as both an interpreter and someone to ooh and ahh with over the plants. We visited 5 different nurseries (there are no greenhouses per se as the whole country serves as a greenhouse!) and actually had to unload our car once before continuing on...let me just interject that not all the plants were mine - Susanna was also in the mood to plant! Much of what we recognized were houseplants...at least in Missouri they're houseplants...in Nicaragua, they're huge and resemble small trees! But I guess that's what makes everything appear so tropical...that and the sweltering temps...

Yesterday morning, Osvaldo stayed on past his time to leave in order to help us plant. It turns out he loves to garden and is quite knowledgeable about many of the varieties of plants we had purchased. Not having a shovel or a trowel, let alone gloves, Osvaldo immediately used his machete to dig holes, break up dirt clods, cut open bags and scoop plant material around. He was very precise in his motions and it was really interesting to watch him work. He ended up staying around 4 hours overtime. Due to the transportation strike, we drove him halfway home where he could find a bus to take him the rest of the way...he didn't want us to take him all the way home because of the time and distance, but also, he was afraid we would get lost! He was probably right. We found out he lives over an hour away from our home and because of the lack of buses running, it's taking him 2-2 1/2 hours to get to work now...now, that's a man who wants to work to provide for his family.

Anyway, on the way home, we opted to stop at the money-changer, go to the store, stop at the corner produce stand and go to the bakery. When we got home, we didn't notice anything unusual. It wasn't until that afternoon that I happened to look out our back door and notice our propane tank was gone. Someone had evidently come while we were taking Osvaldo to the bus stop and stolen it. We had it chained and padlocked to the iron bars on our kitchen window so they must have been watching our house and waiting for us to leave. It gave me an odd feeling...not so much that someone stole from us but rather that someone was watching us and was aware of our comings and goings. I guess that's part of being an American in Managua. Our new propane tank is now kept in the laundry room and we have a 20' hose connecting it to the stove which we have to disconnect every time we have to lock up the door that leads out that way.

Initially, I felt a bit scared and upset but Jim and I immediately prayed and asked God to take away those feelings. I quickly realized that although we can't afford to keep buying propane tanks, we were able to buy another one and that we have so much more than the majority of the people who live here. In my prayer, I told God I didn't want to know who it was that took it but that I wanted them to be broken over their sin of stealing. I want them to be convicted of their sin against God - not against us. I prayed that if they needed that gas tank to cook for their family or to sell it to buy groceries for their children, then that's what they would do with it and not use it to buy alcohol or drugs. We also prayed that God would help us keep all things in perspective. It wasn't long after that we got an e-mail from Leonard...we remembered he and Nancy lost much, much more than a propane tank. Shortly after that, I was reading about the rising death toll in both Myanmar and China...the pilfered tank seemed pretty insignificant in light of those things. And so my perspective is restored.

I have two other stories to share with you...but not tonight. I will tell you later about our trip last Saturday to Rio Blanco and our visit today to a neighborhood re-nutrition center. For now, it's time to coax the shower to give up some hot water and get de-stickyed before going to bed. That's my new favorite evening pasttime...showering! It's my time to review the day and talk to the Lord about all that's going on in my head and my spirit...tonight it's missing my family...it was Benjamin's birthday today and Sadie graduates from Rockhurst College this Saturday. I am missing two very significant and important events...I wonder what Sarai had to miss.

In my quiet time this morning, I was reading in Deuteronomy 5...verse 1-5 says, "Moses summoned all Israel and said: Hear, O Israel, the decrees and laws I declare in your hearing today. Learn them and be sure to follow them. The LORD our God made a covenant with us at Horeb. It was not with our fathers that the LORD made this covenant, but with us, with all of us who are alive here today. The LORD spoke to you face to face out of the fire on the mountain. (At that time I stood between the LORD and you to declare to you the word of the LORD, because you were afraid of the fire and did not go up the mountain.)" All day long, I have been thinking that if God is speaking to me, I don't want to be so afraid of the fire that I won't go up the mountain...I have a feeling that we've not even seen the fire yet.

Critters - crispy and otherwise!

Wow, what a beautiful morning we have here in Managua. It is relatively cool here with a slight breeze. Living higher up than the city, we catch a bit more wind which helps keep us cooler. We had a unbelievable thunderstorm last night with two lightening strikes hitting very close some-time shortly after 3:00 a.m. We think a tower up the hill behind our house might possibly have been struck. There was an explosion of both sound and light at the same time with one strike quickly following the other and close enough to light up our bedroom, shake our house and provide enough incentive for Roberto, our night guard, to seek refuge in our living room! Even the iguanas quit their cavorting...or maybe God's majestic display of His power was enough for us to no longer notice their scrambling about.

They tend to always be active but seem to make more noise at night - possibly it's because the noise of daily living has quieted down so their activity seems louder. We have a place in our ceiling in our bathroom where part of the plaster is missing and there are just little slats that show. Every day, all throughout the day, we get a fine dusting of dirt sifting down on our sink area...when the iguanas are more active, the dusting gets to be chunkier. I've been asking God to keep those slats firmly in place...I don't relish the thought of sharing my bathroom with an uninvited iguana!

We're learning a whole new way to live with critters. We have a pair of blue jays which attack their reflection in our car all day long...Hey, Verdayne, I'm wondering if there's any kind of insurance against this vandalism? These blue jays resemble ours in the states but are larger, with a longer tail and a top knot that resembles the "flag" on a quail's head. Although they differ somewhat in appearance, their personalities appear to be just the same...pesky!

We also have bats which come out every evening at dusk and fly around the front of our house. They are a bit startling at first, but are more than welcome as I know they help to keep the insect population down a bit, especially the mosquitoes. Since the rains have come, the mosquitos have increased as have another type of annoying flying ant-like insect...it makes an appearance every night and the only ones glad to see these things are the resident geckos...and they LOVE them! It's really pretty entertaining watching them go after them as they light on the walls. I tried to help the geckos out by taking a fly swatter and killing about a jillion of the flying things but I guess the geckos like to get their own "plates" - they didn't touch the ones I had killed.

I can't imagine how many bugs we would have without the geckos and the bats. I do think they must have some sort of treaty though with the 2" long cockroaches. I hate those things and I consider it a good day each morning when I arise and find several of them lying tummy up! We also have an endless supply of ants - all sizes and all colors. We have teeny, tiny little ants they call sugar ants, huge black ants and super-charged red ants that race all over the place...none are welcome but haven't seemed to take the hint.

Last night the fireflys made their appearance on a grand scale. Jim described it perfectly when he said the bushes and trees all looked like they were adorned with Christmas lights...the twinkling was breathtaking and it made me think of being a child on a summer's evening. I know our grandchildren would have loved the "catch and release" opportunity and their folks would have appreciated the sheer beauty of it all. It made me smile to see it and it made me tender to think how God would bless me with such a moment to touch my heart. Last night, we got to experience both the gentle beauty of God's creation and then be reminded of the enormity of His power (although be it still restrained) with the thunderstorm a few hours later.

One more story to share this morning. Right after we moved in to our house, before the rains came, I was in the front bedroom getting ready to iron my shirt for the day...ironing is a necessity, now. My iron is a steam iron and that morning, it was spitting and sputtering steam like crazy. I just figured it was because it's a cheap iron. I had almost placed the iron down on my t-shirt when all of a sudden, this huge burst of steam came out and a wad of something came flying out of one of the iron's steam vents. I thought it was gum and wondered how in the world gum could have gotten inside my iron. There were big streaks of what I thought was water all over my t-shirt. On closer inspection of the wad, I discovered it was a baby gecko! Evidently, it had crawled in to one of the iron's steam vents to hide or else in search of water. Unfortunately, it didn't survive it's "hot tub" experience. And the supposed water that was all over my shirt? Well, needless to say, it wasn't water and I had to pick a different shirt to wear. Thankfully, my shirt came clean and so far there haven't been any more boiled geckos making an appearance on my ironing board!

We're starting to get a bit more settled and will soon be looking for a language tutor. I've discovered there's a re-nutrition center not far from our home so I will be trying to find out more about it in the next few weeks. We're still not sure why God has brought us here but here we are and we're praying we will be sensitive to the next step He puts before us. We've been given directions by many who are far more experienced and wiser than we that we need to take a bit of time to adjust to this new way of life before we jump in to things with both feet. I'm not good at waiting...perhaps that's why God brought us here 'cause that seems to be how all of life is here in Nicaragua...waiting for something, someone, someday.

Well, time to get on with our day. I want to get our sheets washed and hung out before the sun gets overhead. If I wait too late in the morning, it's miserable standing out there at the line for even more than a few minutes.

Remembering all of you in our conversations and our prayers. Until next time.

Continuation of Catching Up

I want to continue sharing some of the last few weeks experiences with you. Two days after we arrived in Nicaragua, we went with Susanna on her annual outing where she takes her former group of English students to Lake Nicaragua for a picnic and a day of swimming. We also had two children with us who belong to a missionary couple - their mother, Rhonda, was hospitalized the night before with an emergency appendectomy, so we were keeping the children. All in all, we had 29 children, ages 4-19, packed in to a rental van and Susanna's 4-Runner to make the 3 hour trip to the lake. More proof God has a sense of humor...me with 29 kids!!!!

A few days later, we helped with a medical clinic outside of Jinotepe. This is in the same community as the clinic we did in February. Because the couple who sponsors this clinic were unable to be there in April, there weren't very many people who remembered the clinic would be open again in May. We only had about 16 people but it still took all morning long. Jim and I help with the "pharmacy" when we assist in these type of clinics and it is a very rewarding feeling knowing we are helping in some small way. Most of the people who attend the clinic would not be receiving any type of medical care without this monthly outreach and we enjoy supporting this endeavor with our donations and our time. I want you to know it is a very humbling feeling to see someone sit and wait on a hard wooden bench in a stifling hot room 4 hours to see a doctor and to never hear one word of complaining or grumbling. Instead, without fail, we see faces filled with gratitude for such an opportunity...I bet Gale Roberts would like to see that once in a while with some of her patients!

This past week, we visited a family who lives out in the country. They obviously didn't have much but I was struck by the attempt to make what they had as nice as possible. The wife had flowers planted and even the dirt yard was being swept "clean"...not sure I understand that but it seems to be a common thing to do. As little as this family had, they were pretty well off compared to many of those we saw later in the week. We took a day trip 4 1/2 hours north to Rio Blanco and in the rural area, many of the people live in little 1 room shacks made of cane poles, salvaged plastic and/or old pieces of wood. The people have a much more "worn" look to them and the evidence of malnutrition in the children seems more apparent. We've seen much to think about this week.

Our housekeeper, Margarita, asked Susanna to come out to her brother's house to check on him. He had been attacked by a group of drunks with machetes and one of them cut his forearm quite badly. Because he had no money, the ER had no room. Basically, they stitched him up (and not very neatly...he's going to have a nasty scar) and sent him home with some ibuprofen for pain. Susanna unwrapped his arm to check it to make sure it wasn't infected and I was shocked at how severe the cut was...it had gone to the bone but miraculously, he was able to still have some mobility in his hand. Of course, he can't do any work right now and so Margarita is helping that family out of her wages. The same day he was attacked, so was Margarita's husband. His machete cuts were on his shoulders, arms and back. He is doing better. We are praying that these men will reflect upon their lifestyles and turn their lives wholeheartedly over to God. Sadly, they are more the rule than the exception here in Nicaragua. We helped Margarita by providing some extra groceries for the families.

Sticker shock: I used to love to shop - moving to Nicaragua has changed that. I am starting to better understand why beans and rice are the staple here...no one can afford anything else! Food prices here are outrageous - as are most things. Gas is currently about $4.75 a gallon...high enough that there is currently a transportation strike throughout the entire country...semis, buses and taxis are blockading the major highways in protest of the fuel costs. This effects everyone as most people are dependent upon mass transportation and trucking is the only way of moving goods from one area to another. There are already reports of food shortages in many of the other cities. So far the strike has been relatively peaceful but if it continues much longer, it may soon get ugly. I will write about our own experience with the strike at a later time.

Back to the sticker shock. Here are a few examples of the prices we've had to pay: a can of green beans - $1.40, can of corn - .90, a gallon of Glass Plus (the most economical glass cleaner...glass cleaner isn't easy to find) - $11.18, coffee - $4.22 lb. (how crazy is that??? kind of like the price of chicken in Cassville!), speaking of chicken - $4.73 for a very, very small chicken, cream of mushroom soup - $1.50 per can. Things we didn't buy but looked at longingly - peanut butter was over $4.00 for the small jar, Doritos were $7.00 for the small bag, grapes were $2.00 for a very small bunch that was no bigger than the palm of my hand, strawberries were over $4.00 for a pint and meat is just high period. We've discovered a bean "dip" that is high in protein and relatively inexpensive and it actually tastes good when eaten with tortilla chips or fried plantain.

We're learning to drink lots of water...it doesn't take long to dehydrate in this heat. Although we had our first rain storm on Saturday...it poured! You would have thought it was a celebration the way everyone was so excited that the rain had finally come...we are finishing up about a 5-6 month dry season so the rains are a big deal. It was cooler WHILE it was raining but as soon as it stopped, it seemed the humidity jumped and it was miserably hot and sticky. These two gringos have a long ways to go to acclimate to the heat.

Have I told you about Orlando? He's the "caretaker" for lack of a better title and is the father of Paulita, who is the housekeeper for Don Carlos, who is the 90 year old man who lives in the house behind us and is our landlord... confused yet? You're not alone...so is Orlando. I would guess he's probably in his early 70s and he spends his day sitting on a concrete block in the shade, under the mango tree, and carrying on full blown conversations with an invisible companion. These discussions get quite animated and often are very loud...they've even escalated to the point where Orlando has had to take his invisible machete after his invisible antagonist. At first glance, this was a bit disturbing but Orlando and I have become friends...I gave him a donut for breakfast one morning and he was thrilled. He took his donut and a bottle of water (I hope that's what it was), and quickly retired to his concrete block under the mango tree, jealously guarding the donut from his invisible foe. I was fascinated watching Orlando first reason with the unseen begger and then finally, having to get firm with him. Now, I root for Orlando when he is engaged in his battles. I can't help but wonder how many real ones he's had to fight in his life - how many for food, for home, for family. Orlando and I have our own conversations - neither of us understanding the other but neither caring. That's really not important right now - we are friends and we are at peace. Every morning, Orlando tips his hat to me as we greet one another. Early in the morning, I often find him watering my plants on the patio and throughout the day, he can often be found sitting out under our mango tree, guarding us from dangers seen only to him. Believe it or not, there is a sense of comfort having him outside my kitchen door even though he really couldn't hurt anyone. When I watch him "fight", I am reminded of Balaam's donkey and have decided not to discount what I can't see. Who knows how God has gifted Orlando? I hope one day I will be able to speak to him about such things. One night when the power was off, we returned home after dark to find Orlando sitting on our front steps, guarding our house with his mere presence. Orlando may not function well outside of our little place (Don Carlos says he's "simple minded") but he takes his role of being our caretaker seriously and those beings, real or imaginary, who would dare to challenge any of us under the mango tree had better watch their step!

Enough for tonight...it's almost 10:00 p.m. and morning comes early in Nicaragua. We usually get up a little after 5:00 thanks to the crashing around of the iguanas who live above our bedroom in the space between our ceiling and our roof...another story for another time.

Buenos Noches mis amigos.

Finally...

Well, we're here...hot, sweaty and with heads spinning, but nevertheless, we're here. We're semi-settled in our house here in Managua...it's going to take some time for it to become our home...home is what we left in Missouri but we trust God will soon make this our home. Jim is currently trying to sew some screening on the iron bars of our outer doors in hopes of slowing down the daily immigration of outdoor insects. I thought I would try to figure out this blog thing...the website will be Jim's project to tackle...AFTER he gets the screening done plus a few other "honey, I-need-it-done-now" type things.

Life has been an unbelievable whirlwind for us since we locked our front door on Chinquapin Woods for the last time. Upon leaving Cassville, MO, we began what our daughter, Mandy, called our "Farewell Tour", visiting special friends, Dick and Wander Sanders in Willard, MO and speaking at their church, Lone Star Baptist Church...one of the sweetest gathering of Christian brothers and sisters we've ever experienced.

From there, we went on to Topeka, KS to visit Jim's family for a few days and then on to the KC area to spend some time with my daughter, Sadie and some special friends, Rex & Sue Pio. While in the area, we also had the opportunity to share about Nicaragua with my former church, First Baptist, in Gardner, KS. There were so many people we wanted to see in our old stomping grounds, but our time went so quickly and we just weren't able to see everyone...that was almost as hard to reconcile ourselves to as the good-byes were that we were able to say.

After that, we headed down to Eureka Springs, AR to stay one more time at our favorite B & B, Roadside Haven, which is operated by a couple we are proud to call our friends, Robert (aka "Wilson") and Nancy Holmes. Of course, this friendship is enhanced by their tremendous gift of hospitality and Nancy's great breakfasts!

The final leg of the "Tour" was spent with our daughter, Mandy, our son-in-law, Jack and the four most dearly loved grandchildren ever, Maddie, Sam, Benjamin and Jeremiah. We ended our time stateside with the most humbling and encouraging send-off from our home church, First Baptist in Cassville, MO. Folks, churches don't come any better than this one and we have been so blessed to have considered it our home and the people there, our family, since 1997. I don't dare write of the difficulty of all these good-byes...and we are returning for a short visit in July...so, I'll just leave this part as it is.

Now, all of that took two weeks. We planned on arriving in Managua and getting right down to setting up housekeeping and getting our communication system set in place. The only problem with that plan is that it was ours and we didn't take in to consideration, we were making these plans to happen in Nicaragua! We arrived to a re-instatement of power outages, service cutbacks, including water rationing, and now, this week, a transportation strike is in process and may soon actually shut down the country as far as "normal" life goes...whatever that is...we haven't quite got that one figured out yet.

I will try to give you a brief summary of the last 12 days. Many of you were joining with us in praying we would get our luggage through customs without a hitch...those prayers were graciously answered in the affirmative...even my beloved red Kitchen Aid mixer made it in and is now sitting majestically on my kitchen counter...of course, I will have to be quite resourceful in my timing of it's use due to the daily power outages...nevertheless, every time I look at it, I think of God's blessing me in allowing it to make it to our house in Managua.

As soon as we landed, Susanna Sheats, the young woman missionary who has "adopted" us as her own mission effort, met us and whisked us off to her place for a week, while we shopped for basic needs...something to sit on, something to sleep in, something for food storage, something for laundry and something to drive. Those needs have been met and as much as we have done in regards to that, we still have so much yet to do. One of these days, we plan on getting a table and chairs so we're not using our living room as our dining room and a dresser so we can quit living out of our action packers...although they are really very versatile pieces...we're currently using them as end tables, night stands and a dresser!

I want to stress how faithful our God has been to us. In the last 12 days, not only have we found what we have needed to set up the basic housekeeping items, we have also purchased a very good and hopefully, reliable, 1999 4WD Toyota 4-Runner at a very good price...at least by Nica standards, that is - $12,000. These cars are considered the best to have in this terrain because they're not only workhorses, but parts are easily accessible whereas American made vehicles and other foreign models are costly to operate and/or repair. We had it checked out by Lester, a mechanic that many of the missionaries here in Managua use. He has a reputation for being a bit more expensive than some of the other mechanics, but he is also reputed to be very honest and trustworthy... that's worth the extra cordobas, believe me. He gave it the thumbs up when we took it to him and that was good enough for us. Before I go on, I have to tell you that Susanna was so impressed that our car was a "Limited Edition" and had a sunroof...let me simply say no one in their right mind would want a sun roof in Nicaragua!!!! Thankfully, it has a sliding cover so that we're protected from that blistering orb while driving!

Besides proving the right vehicle for us, God also has brought us a housekeeper named Margarita who helps me 3 days a week...or rather I should say, who has taken over my kitchen and housekeeping chores 3 days a week. She scolded me for gathering up the lunch dishes the other day! I was resistant to having someone help but was encouraged to do so, not only because of the amount of work the floors require, but also to provide an income. I don't mind helping Margarita a bit...she's the only stable worker in her family, as well, as in her extended family. She is quite industrious and has managed to save enough money in the last year to buy a pig, which has had several little pigs, a horse and is saving for more livestock in order to provide additional income. She is a worker!

We also have on our "payroll", a night guard, newly added yesterday. His name is Roberto and is married with a 4 year old son. He's in his last year of college and is studying to be a psychologist. We think he took us on to study us as cases! He is a very sweet and respectful young man and takes his position quite seriously. He made sure we were securely locked in last night and didn't leave this morning until he knew were up and stirring around. He also gave me a Mother's Day gift this morning of a small throw pillow...and yes, Tommy and Leonard, it did make me cry!

Well, I need to get off of here before the power goes out. I will try to finish catching everyone up possibly tomorrow.

Missing all of you,
Lynne and Jim